A Xmas Show Tune
by Queen Remy
Summary: A humourous parody of A Christmas Carol starring Sean Connery, Bob Marley, Kali, and a load of Professional Street Urchins... Read & Review!


Disclaimer: None of these characters or actors belong to me, not even Renee, though she is me, for Renee belongs to Kali, but that's another story for another time. Also, any spelling mistakes are either meant to be there or I have a thing for spelling things in german, one or the other depending upon the spelling error. Yeah…so…. Have fun!

**_A X-mas Show Tune_**  
_A Parody  
(We don't sing…)_

Chapter 1 Cast:  
Scrooge ----> Sean Connery  
Marley ---->Bob Marley  
Bob Cratchet ---->Bob Cratchet  
Nephew ---->Kali  
Street People ----> Professional Street Urchins

Ok… so the point of the prelude is that Bob Marley was dead. Most of us knew that he was before, he died of toe cancer. Ain't nothin' kills worse than toe cancer!

So here we begin our tale after that wonderful introduction in the warehouses of Scrooge and Marley. Bob Cratchet worked at his… whatever it was he did while Ebenezer Scrooge stared off into space thinking about money and the likes. 'Twas a rather cold X-mas eve to be out upon, and luckily, one would think, these two souls were locked into the nice warm warehouses. That would be a wrong assumption, for Scrooge, the old bear he was, would rather freeze to death than pay for the costs of heating, which we all know are extraordinarily high what with the strikes in Venezuela and the war in Iraq, but that's not the point. The point is it was freezing. God damned freezing!

All of the sudden, out of the blue and into the cold, a finely dressed young woman entered the building. She was covered in luxurious green fabric to keep her warm on such an excessively cold day and came into the room with an amazing amount of cheer.

"It'sh you…" Scrooge lamented as soon as he saw her come through the door.

"Yes Uncle, it is, and I love you so much dear, rich Uncle! Merry X-mas Eve! It's my second favourite holiday, my first being Halloween!" responded the young woman. She was quite apparently Scrooge's nephew.

In a non-subtly annoyed way, Scrooge uttered, "Why do you have to bother my nephew? I wazz… um… doing shomthing!"

"I just wanted to wish you a merry X-mas, Uncle!" replied the nephew cheerily through a botox-happy smile.

"Shure! Shure you did! That'sh what they all shay! You probably jusht want shomething from me!" said old Scrooge through eyes narrowed at his nephew.

"Nope! Just your money!" the young woman said.

"You don't want to get dishowned, do you? Bah! Humbug to the X-mash shpirit!" he muttered crossly.

"But not X-mas spirits!" she told her uncle, downing a shot of vodka.

"Lishen! You're my only living male relative right now, sho I'm going to be eazzy on you, but only thish onshe!" Scrooge spat.

"Excuse me, Uncle, but I'm a woman!" his…nephew exclaimed.

Confusedly the uncle exclaimed, "Ishn't your name Kalim? That'sh a boy'sh name! Why on earth would you desheive me like that?"

"My name's Kali, Uncle… Kali, a girl's name…" the woman replied.

"Whatever, justh leave me to my work! Bah! Humbug!" Scrooge barked, waving for her to leave him.

"Well… Merry X-mas to all, and to all a good night!" Said Kali before cheerfully bustling away.

"Glad that'sh over with…" mutterend Scrooge under his breath.

Just as he said this he was cut off by the voice of Bob Cratchet, "Please, sir, can I 'ave some'ore?"

"What the—?" Scrooge exclaimed in confusion, "I think you've got the wrong book…"

Cratchet, recovering from his momentary daze, replied, "I…mean…er…can I have the day off tomarrow? It is X-mas after all…"

"No! It'sh a bloody washte of money! I hate washting money! I haven't washted a bit of money all winter!"

With a cough, Cratchet uttered under his breath, "I can tell…"

"What wazz that?" snapped Scrooge.

"Nothing, Sir, but can I please? Have you no X-mas spirit?" pleaded Cratchet.

Scrooge's hautty reply was, "You'll be here tomarrow morning at 4 AM! Deal with it!"

"Right, yessir, mmmhmmm… See you tomarrow, Sir," Cratchet said in an attempt to deal with it as he was instructed, yet as he walked away quiet grumbling noises could be heard, presumably emmited from his rebellious mouth or his empty stomach.

Scrooge soon after settled into his doing nothing, again, which for a man so into time being money is rather unproductive. All of the sudden, out of the black and into the cold came an uncountable number of street people.

"Why the hell are you idiotsh here? Can a man get no peash around here?" Scrooge proclaimed. All day long people had been bothering him, hoping for money… or the day off… or money… or the day off!

"We'd like for you to donate money to the foundation?" said the tiny Street Person 1 while he bundled his coat. "Good God! It's colder in here than it is out there!" he exclaimed motioning toward the door.

"What foundation would that be?" Scrooge queried.

"PETA, visit for more information on the cause!"

"I represent the Christian Coalition; we would like to recruit you to be a drastic conservative! From our statistics any cruel-hearted money-maker such as yourself would love to become a strictly conservative Christian like us! Today's the perfect day to sign your life away!"

"I'm selling car insurance, would you like to buy some, even if you don't have a car it's always a good investment! We also have a carriage division if you'd like to take a look at that set of paperwork…"

"It's getting really crowded in here…"

"I'm selling Dove Moisturizing Deodorant for Women, would you happen to be interested in a sample bar? It's free!"

Scrooge shouted out in the confusion, "What the… get out you idiotsh! … Exshept for you with the free shtuff! I want that!" Scrooge snatched the deodorant from the hand of one person and then ended the commotion with, "NOW EVERYONE GET OUT!"

And with that everyone made a stampede for the exit, including Cratchet, who was supposed to work late that evening. Pretty damn promptly, too, hell, I would, too, if I could, but I got a story to write! So as I was saying, Cratchet made a break for the door, but Scrooge, quick for his old age, as long as anything had to do with money, grasped the collar of Bob Cratchet's shirt and dragged him back into the building. He scolded Cratchet saying that the poor worker wouldn't leave until the establishment, i.e. Scrooge, said that the worker could. About one minute later scrooge threw Cratchet out and locked up shoppe. He headed home to his wonderful, empty mansion. This was actually a pretty damn creepy mansion and they had to pay me 50,000 pounds to get me to go anywhere near the building and another 25,000 pounds to get me inside it. The point is it was damn creepy, like that Amityville house or the Winchester Mystery Mansion or something… but like… ten times more haunted.

So Scrooge was just about to knock on his own knocker—the door knocker you pervert!—when he saw the haunting, daunting face of Bob Marley! When Scrooge saw that face he could have sworn he heard on of his favourite Marley songs, _Concrete Jungle_. It was a crazy thing, though, it seemed that the face was there and before you could say "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," it was gone.

"Humbug!" cried Scrooge, "Bob'sh dead!"

Scrooge entered his, er, "lovely" creepy mansion and went upstairs to secure a cup o' joe and some potato stew, an odd choice of food, but he's the nasty old coot eating it, not me, so I'll stop complaining. But it was very soon after Scrooge started warming himself at his "fire," which was really just an old fireplace with a fire painted to the back of it, that all of the coo-coo clocks in the mansion started to go off simultaneously and the walls of the mansion echoed with the haunting sound of "Coo-coo! Coo-coo!" Soon after this stomach-hallowing event, reggae musik was beginning to make itself apparent. Through the door sailed a ghostly version of Bob Marley with a full band.

"Hey, mon! Why are you so hatin'? Why con't you just love? It's X-mas, mon, I learned that the hard way." Marley told his old friend Scrooge.

Scrooge shook off his friend's warning, "Bob, you alwayzz were the shtupid type. You know very well that X-mash meshesh up my wallet!"

"Listen, mon, three ghosts will be visitin' you tonight. You have only tonight to save yourself, mon. Savin' yourself gets you a slot in the big conga line in the sky. If you don't save yourself now, you may never get another chance, and let me tell you, when you don't save yourself, mon, you're in for the pathetic Rappers from HELL!...mon." Bob Marley warned his friend, hoping to get the message across with the forbidding aspects of the afterlife.

Although the prospect of spending all of eternity with idiotic rappers was not Scrooge's idea of appealing, he still could not help himself but to misunderestimate the power of Marley's words. "Bah! Humbug! Thish ish ship!"

"Well, mon, it happened to me! Those Rappers get into your head, and, mon, when they start, they just don't stop! You'll be visited by three spirits tonight, mon, and it won't be pretty… except for that ghost of X-mas Present, she's hot! Anywho, on every hour, mon, you'll be visited, and mon, it won't be nice!

Bob's ghost and the reggae musik then faded away simultaneously into the walls, while Scrooge thought to himself that he just might have gone off the deep end this time. As if to reassure himself he cried out into his empty creepy mansion, "Humbug! Who needsh thish ship?" and somehow winding up on his bed, he soon fell asleep.


End file.
